


Puppy Love

by tiigi



Series: Henry/Bill [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Consent Issues, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mild Somnophilia, Obsessive Behavior, Underage Drinking, like mild nsfw I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiigi/pseuds/tiigi
Summary: Denbrough is already fucked up enough, without Henry adding to it. His little brother is dead, and he’s getting blackout drunk at parties just to forget about it.
Relationships: Henry Bowers/Bill Denbrough
Series: Henry/Bill [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564909
Comments: 11
Kudos: 88





	Puppy Love

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a little fucked up but I promise there is happiness (and consent) to come!

If there’s one thing Greta Bowie knows how to do, it’s throw an incredible back to school party. That’s how, the weekend before Henry is set to retake sophomore year, he finds himself in Greta’s crowded living room with about thirty other people. He’s on his fourth beer and is beginning to feel a little tipsy; Patrick is in the kitchen probably raiding Greta’s cupboards whilst Vic and Belch left to go smoke some weed with the other stoners, so Henry has been on his own for about half an hour by the time he sees Bill Denbrough.

His first thought is, _‘oh shit, who invited him?’_ Everybody has been walking on eggshells around Denbrough since the start of the summer, ever since his little brother died. His father talked about it a little bit, about how there’s some fucked up kid killer in Derry and that if Henry even thinks about bringing any attention to himself in all of this he’ll regret it. 

He hasn’t. He hasn’t even spoken to Denbrough about it, not to apologise or pick on him or anything. The lack of contact has been driving him crazy and in the past few weeks especially, any time he saw Denbrough out around town, he had to fight the temptation to go over there and lay his hands on him. Just one punch, his hand fisting Denbrough’s t-shirt… that would be enough.

One positive to come out of the whole thing, Henry thinks, is that Denbrough and his slut girlfriend broke up. They’re still friends, which sucks, but at least they aren’t shoving their relationship in everyone’s face, which is a relief. Henry left both of them alone for a whole week as a reward of sorts, but Patrick and the others didn’t share the sentiment and there wasn’t really anything Henry could do about that. 

Henry imagines he hears a collective gasp when Denbrough walks in with his asthmatic friend and the Tozier kid who never seems to shut up. The other freaks must be busy somewhere, so it’s just the three of them tonight. Henry detests the way his eyes are drawn to Denbrough, curls his hands into fists as the urge to use that pent up frustration to punch Bill grows and grows.

Bill keeps his head down and his jaw clenched as the three of them cross the room. Pretty soon they’ll be right in front of Henry and he has to make his mind up now, whether to mess with them or to keep to himself. He’s by himself, sure, but it’s also the start of a new school year and whatever he does now sets a precedent for the rest of the year.

They get closer and closer and Henry–

Shit, Henry _panics._

He’s sticking his foot out before he can talk himself out of it, tripping the smaller one so that he has to make a grab for Tozier’s shirt to stop himself from face planting. The crowd around them laughs and, when Tozier and Kaspbrak see who it is, they back off, faces red with anger and humiliation.

Bill, like Henry expected, doesn’t. Instead he steps forward and shoves at Henry’s chest with unexpected emotion. It feels good to have Denbrough touching him again, as pathetic as that is. The brief touch has Henry revitalised and excited for whatever is about to happen.

“Fuck you, B-Bowers.” He says, cheeks reddening when he has to stumble over the words.

“Did you s-s-say something, B-B-Billy?” Henry replies, just to be an asshole, and he enjoys the way pink flushes Denbrough’s cheeks. The crowd around them titters nervously, like they don’t know whether to laugh or not. Denbrough still looks like he’s gearing up to fight but that wouldn’t end well for him and everybody knows it, so Henry makes the decision for him and wanders away to the kitchen to get another drink.  
  


He doesn’t plan on seeing Denbrough or his pussy friends again that evening, but as usual with Henry, things don’t always go to plan.

***

Henry thinks sometimes that, if there is a God out there looking down on all of them, It must really hate him. He thinks this as he turns around to see Bill Denbrough passed out in the bed of the room he just stumbled into.

He doesn’t know what to do. It feels like, it he goes back outside to the party now, he’ll pass out. The music is too loud, there are too many people, his head is about to explode. Henry is on the verge of having a panic attack and he can’t let that set the precedent for the next school year or he’ll have a hell of a time putting people back in their place.

He finds his eyes drifting back to Denbrough, laid out on the bed like a damsel in distress. How did he end up here? It isn’t like his friends to ditch him at a party, and Denbrough doesn’t usually drink enough to pass out. Was it just about what Henry said earlier?

Part of Henry feels guilty. A bigger, sicker part of him feels elated that he has that big of an impact on Denbrough’s actions.

He looks beautiful like this. He’s on his side, curled up, dark eyelashes fanning across his pink cheeks. His lips are red and his t-shirt is riding up enough to expose a sliver of skin above the edge of his jeans. Henry can see the waistband of his underwear; fuck, he’s close enough to just reach out and touch. He could, if he wanted to, just ghost his fingertips over Denbrough’s body. He probably wouldn’t wake up.

Drunk on his newfound power and the lack of the usual guilt that accompanies these thoughts, Henry gets one knee up on the mattress beside Bill and leans down close to him. He breathes deeply, inhaling Denbrough’s scent. It’s intoxicating. Before Henry really understands what’s going on, his cock is hard and pressing against the zipper of his jeans.

He should leave this room now. It’s too risky to stay with a boner and only Denbrough unconscious in the room with him. He should go and find a girl to fuck or get even more drunk than he already is. He absolutely shouldn’t unzip his jeans and pull his dick out, which is exactly what he finds himself doing.

Henry just wants so much. He wants Bill. He wants to fuck him and he wants to kill him, and he wants to kill anyone who says he shouldn’t. He wants to kill his father for trying to beat the fag out of him and he wants to kill Denbrough for igniting the fag feelings inside him in the first place.

The door bursts open and Henry just about has a heart attack. He’s already trying to brainstorm excuses for why he’s got his dick out hovering over an unconscious teenage boy when he sees its only Patrick, and he sighs, relieved. 

He still tucks his dick back into his pants very fucking quickly though, or Patrick will suggest they have a threesome with Bill still out cold. 

“The fuck?” Patrick snickers, taking in the situation far too quickly. “You about to fuck Stuttering Bill?”

“No,” Henry spits, zipping himself up and pushing past Patrick to get to the door. Patrick follows him down the stairs and out into the front lawn, where it’s easier to breathe and there are fewer people to spill drinks on.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Henry says quietly, looking up at the sky. “Go round up Belch and Vic, see if they’re sober.”

Patrick shrugs and turns as though he’s going to do it without complaint. Then he hesitates and smirks up at Henry from behind the curtain of his hair.

“You know,” he says, voice slimy and smug. “I always thought Denbrough had a fuckable mouth. You could go back up there if you really wanted? I’d keep lookout for you and everything. I bet he’d never even know.”

Henry feels vaguely sick, but he doesn’t know if that’s the booze or the suggestion. Was he really about to do that? If Patrick is supporting it then it _must_ be bad.

It’s not gay, he tells himself desperately, if he just wanted to fuck Denbrough up. He just wanted to harass him, freak him out a little. Nothing else.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Henry tells Patrick, tone thick with finality. He waits until Patrick has shrugged and sauntered back inside before he throws up into the bushes and sinks to his knees.

Denbrough is already fucked up enough, without Henry adding to it. His little brother is dead, and he’s getting blackout drunk at parties just to forget about it.

Tomorrow, Henry will talk to Belch and Vic and Patrick. He’ll tell them that they’re letting Denbrough off for the foreseeable future, at least until all the drama dies down. Patrick will smirk knowingly and will probably make his life a living hell for it, but Henry knows it’s what he has to do.

It’s what he should have done a long time ago. He just wishes it wasn’t too late.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! <3


End file.
